


I'm Praying For A Miracle (But I Won't Hold My Breath)

by downlookingup



Series: Walk on Shells [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1778137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downlookingup/pseuds/downlookingup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a painful encounter in a pub, Brienne tells her best friend Jaime the sordid tale of her ex-boyfriend. One thing leads to another and...</p><p>Inspired by Garbage's <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VGAhaFtDpCw">"Drive You Home"</a>, which is a very sad but fitting song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Praying For A Miracle (But I Won't Hold My Breath)

The pub smelled of stale beer and vomit and sweat, but there was no place in the whole city Brienne would rather be. She was with her friends and she was celebrating—even if Pod and Sansa didn't know it—and she was _happy_. Margaery was telling Pod and Sansa the story of how she found out her ex-fiancé was gay. Brienne had been there and it wasn't a particularly happy memory, but Marg's telling of it never failed to make her laugh, and Pod and Sansa's vaguely horrified faces at the thought of Marg's fiancé and brother having a tryst during the wedding weekend only made the storytelling more amusing.

"In the end," Marg said, an amused glint dancing in her blue eyes, "my grandmother convinced our father to switch Loras and me and the septon married _them_. It wasn't legally-binding, of course, not in Highgarden, but a month later they went down to Sunspear and did it properly.”

Sansa stared wide-eyed at Margaery. "But—didn't you love him?”

"Oh, sure, but not like _that_. I don't want to say it was going to be a marriage of convenience, but..." She shrugged and took a sip of her wine with a wicked smile.

"But," Brienne interrupted, "it _was_. And anyway, it all worked out. Loras and Renly are very happy and they've just adopted a baby.”

Sansa and Pod visibly perked up at the thought and Margaery grinned. "Her name is Alys. Brienne, did I show you the photos of her welcome home party? She's the cutest thing!" Margaery pulled out her phone from her purse and put it in the middle of the table so all four of them could look and gasp and coo at the bright-eyed two-year-old covered in pink icing. They were too absorbed to notice the two figures approaching.

"She's not yours, is she, Marg?”

The mere sound of his voice sent a chill up Brienne's spine, but she managed to take a deep breath and put a smile on her face— _Not too big, Brienne, don't let those crooked teeth poke out_ —before turning to look at the greenest eyes she had ever seen. They smiled back at her before turning to acknowledge the others.

Margaery snorted. "Please, Jaime, and ruin my figure?"

"Glad to see you've got your priorities straight," Jaime said, taking the seat next to Brienne. He shrugged out of his gray suit jacket and leaned back in the chair to smirk at Margaery.

"Screw you, Lannister," she snapped. "I'm sure Addam would agree, wouldn't you?" She looked up at Jaime's friend with a broad grin and he returned the smile with a playfully crude glance at Margaery's cleavage, which was almost bursting out of the dark green bandage dress she was wearing.

"Absolutely," Addam said, running his fingers through his auburn hair, and sat next to Margaery. They fell into conversation quickly, his arm draped over the back of her chair and her hand occasionally flitting out to touch his knee. Brienne didn't know for certain if they had ever done more than flirt, but she felt a slight pang of envy at the graceful way they could fall into this dance, even after months of not seeing each other. Addam didn't work with them at the magazine, but he would occasionally show up with Jaime at various events and if Margaery was present, he would gravitate to her like a moth to a flame.

"M-Mr. Lannister," Pod stammered, giving Jaime a solemn nod, proper as always. Sansa simply gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Her dislike of Jaime Lannister was a badly-kept secret.

Jaime smirked. "Relax, Podrick. We're not in the office.”

"What _are_ you doing in the land of the living?" Brienne asked, rounding on him. "Did you finally run out of nits to pick?”

His smile broadened, and the way his eyes looked in the dim light of the pub made her heart stutter. "If you _must_ know, I heard about your good news and decided to buy you a drink." The answer startled a blush out of her and she looked away, hoping he couldn't see how red she was.

When Catelyn Stark called Brienne into her office that afternoon and told her she was making her the new head of the research department, she had asked Brienne to keep it quiet until the following Monday when the official announcement would be made. Brienne hadn't been able to hide it from Margaery—her silly grin had given her away as soon as she stepped out of Mrs. Stark's office—but she hadn't told anyone else and she was sure Margaery hadn't either. If Jaime knew, it was because he had inside knowledge and she wondered if he had a hand in it—not a stretch at all, considering he was an editor, and also considering his father was the owner of the whole damned magazine, and that carried more weight than it should in their line of work. The idea made her slightly uncomfortable but she pushed the feeling away and made a mental note of asking him when they were alone.

Brienne stood up, taking her purse. "I still owe you a beer from last time, so I'll get this round and you get the next one.”

"Deal," Jaime said.

She pushed through the crowd to reach the bar, using her height to her advantage. She towered over almost everyone in the place by a full head, and she usually hunched over to make herself smaller, but being tall was a boon when she was in a crowded place because there was absolutely no way to miss her. _You'll have to start standing up straight if you mean to be head of the Research department. Can't have a stooping boss._

She reached the bar and waited for the bartender, who was busy preparing a complicated-looking drink. In the mirror behind the bar, she saw Jaime listening intently to something Pod was saying, his eyebrows knitted together with interest.

 _The most beautiful man in King's Landing_ , she thought and wished she could punch her own brain for thinking it. He was tall and well-built and his hair shone gold and silver. He was arrogant and impulsive, and sometimes he was cruel. He was loyal and stubborn and her friend, and she supposed she could forgive some of his faults because he had done more for her than anyone ever had.

They had been paired together when she first started working for _L_ magazine two years ago. Jaime was working on a big research project and Brienne was assigned as the project's dedicated fact checker. It was a big assignment for a rookie, but Catelyn Stark knew she was hardworking and trustworthy and most of all, honorable. Mrs. Stark didn't trust Jaime to be entirely diligent with his investigation—there had been an incident, years ago, with a politician and some unverified sources—but she knew Brienne would keep him on track. She _had_ , but it had taken no small amount of second-guessing each other and late night arguments, their faces beet-red as they yelled. Six months later, he had turned in a fantastic article of investigative journalism and she had gained a fiercely loyal friend.

Jaime caught her eye in the mirror and smiled and she smiled back, wishing she had gained more than a friend. She was still smiling when she heard her name over her right shoulder. The smile fell away when she realized who it was.

“Hyle."

The man in front of her, several inches shorter, grinned at her like a hyena who had stumbled upon a wounded gazelle. His hair was longer than it was when they were in Storm's End and he sported a beard now, but she would recognize those shrewd brown eyes anywhere.

"You remember my name!" He chuckled. "I thought you would have forgotten all about me when you moved to the big city. How are you?”

Brienne forced a tight-lipped smile. "Fine. You?”

"Fantastic. I'm an accountant at the new branch of the Iron Bank that's just opened. Raking it in, you know." He winked at her and she had to suppress a shiver of revulsion.

An angry blush crawled up her neck, but she tried her best to ignore it. "Yes, I remember how much you like money," she snapped.

"You're not still mad about that, are you? It's been five years!"

His tone was so lighthearted, she had to clench her fists at her sides to keep from throttling him. "Ten years could pass and I would still be mad, Hyle. You were an absolute shit.”

Hyle shook his head, his face twisted into a mockery of sadness. "I think I've apologized enough times already, Brienne.”

"That's funny," she said, "because I've never heard the words 'I'm sorry' come out of your lying mouth.”

She felt a warm touch on her right hand and for a moment she thought Hyle was trying to take her hand, but when she twisted away she saw Jaime, his smile as charming as ever but his eyes cold and cautious. "Everything okay, baby?”

The incongruity of those words coming out of his mouth paralyzed her for a moment, but the feeling of his arm wrapping around her waist brought her back to reality with a jolt and she nodded.

"Fine," she managed to choke out, and looked back at Hyle to see if he was buying into this mummer's farce Jaime had conjured up at exactly the right time. "This is Hyle Hunt. We went to college together. Hyle, Jaime Lannister.”

Hyle switched his beer to his left hand and held his right out. Jaime grabbed it, a bit too tightly if Hyle's grimace was any indication. "Her boyfriend," Jaime said, with a razor-sharp smirk.

"Lannister? Your family owns _L_ magazine, don't they?" Hyle turned his gaze to Brienne and smiled a bit triumphantly. "Isn't that where you work?"

The implication hung in the air like a toxic cloud. Jaime's hand tightened on her waist and she wished he hadn't come to her rescue at all so she could punch Hyle to her heart's content. "How do you know where I work?" she asked, through gritted teeth.

"Your dad and I chat every once in a while. He says you haven't been to see him in ages. I was actually hoping I'd bump into you when I moved here. We could go down one of these weekends. I'd love to see Tarth again.”

"Again?" Jaime echoed.

Brienne cut him off and tried to look more menacing, less menaced. "I'm very busy at the magazine, Hyle. My dad knows that.”

He grinned and glanced at Jaime. "Right. I'd better get back. My friends are probably wondering if I ran off with someone. See you around, Beauty." He turned on his heels and disappeared into the crowd and Brienne had to hold on to the bar to keep herself steady. She was so livid, tears were pricking at the corners of her eyes but she refused to cry in a smelly Flea Bottom pub.

"Who in the seven hells was that?" Jaime hissed in her ear, but all she could do was shake her head and pull away from his arm and head towards their table.

The four of them stared at her with concern, but Margaery had a slightly mutinous look on her face. "Bri, was that Hyle Hunt?" She spat the name out like it was a curse— _Because it is, I'm cursed, I'm cursed_ —and Brienne nodded. "I don't feel well. I'm going to go home." She didn't know if her voice was audible above the din of the bar, but Jaime heard her clearly enough.

"I'll walk you," he said, taking both their jackets from their abandoned chairs. "Good night, everyone.”

Brienne gave a small reassuring smile to Sansa and Pod, who looked like they had been been thrown into a pool full of sharks, and she felt a stab of guilt at having dragged them to the pub in the first place. She turned and rushed out of the pub, willing her tears not to spill.

Jaime caught up with her halfway up the block and grabbed her arm to make her slow down. "What's wrong? Who was that?”

"Just someone I knew when I was in Storm's End. He was a jerk.”

"If your reaction is anything to go by, I think he was more than a jerk. Did you go out with him?”

"Just drop it," she snapped, pulling her arm out of his grip. "I'm fine now. You can go back, if you want.”

Jaime shrugged his broad shoulders in a show of indifference. "Nah, I was about to go home anyway. That place smells like an airplane barf bag. At least put on your jacket.”

Brienne hadn't realized she wasn't wearing it and her skin pimpled in the sharp night breeze. Even in early August, the wind blowing in from Blackwater Bay was enough to make her fingertips cold. Her sleeveless gauzy blouse offered little protection against the wind, but her anger had been keeping her warm. Jaime held her shabby black blazer in front of him so she could slip her arms inside. He straightened her collar and patted her shoulders softly, and the tender contact made some of the anger seep out of her and she heaved a sigh.

They walked quietly for a while—her apartment was only three blocks from the Broken Anvil—and she realized they must have been in the pub for hours, because the sky was pitch black and the streets were buzzing with activity typical of a late Friday night. A glance at her wristwatch told her it was almost midnight and suddenly she was so tired, she could barely walk.

She imagined she heard the gears in Jaime's head turning, willing her to talk about Hyle, but she couldn't do it, not on the street where the lights were too bright and the sounds were too loud and there was nowhere to hide her burning face. She felt easier when they reached her apartment building: as dirty and run-down as it was, it was home. Brienne unlocked the front door and held it open for Jaime, who was waiting on the stoop.

"Do you want to hear the story or not?" she asked. He grinned in reply and followed her inside, up the stairs to the fourth floor, into her kitchen. She handed him a beer and he stood by the door to sip it. There was a pile of dirty dishes in the sink and she needed to do something to keep her hands busy, otherwise she would explode from all nervous energy pent up in her chest. She sank her hands in the suds and scrubbed and let the words pour out of her like water.

"We dated for almost a year when we were studying at Storm's End. He was my first boyfriend. My first... _anything_.” She glanced at Jaime to see if he got her meaning, but he was staring at the floor, waiting for her to continue. "I really did think he liked me. Maybe I wanted to believe it, especially after Renly.”

"Renly? Margaery's brother-in-law?”

Brienne bit her lip, feeling her cheeks get warmer. "I had a silly crush on him and then he got engaged to Margaery and then he got married to Loras." She chuckled weakly. "It was quite an interesting summer." Interesting wasn't the right word. Heartbreaking would be better. She had fallen hard for Renly and his kindness and his easy smiles, and when the summer ended and the dust settled down, she had tried to glue her heart back together and pretend that nothing had happened.

And then Hyle had come along, with flowers and jokes and nicknames. Brienne the Beauty, he called her. She thought he was mocking her at first but he kept such a straight face when he said it, she began to believe him. "Hyle was in most of my classes and we sat together and shared notes. He asked me out and I said yes and it all went from there. Eventually I found out that there had been a bet. Some guys in our class were taking turns asking me out but I turned them all down except for Hyle." She took a deep breath. "He won the bet the night we...”

She didn't need to say it. Jaime growled, "That fucking dog. You should have broken his nose.”

"I did," she said. "Eventually. He said it had started as a bet but that he loved me, and I trusted him. In the end, he got the grade he wanted in my father's Economics class and he dumped me for a pretty freshman.”

The pile of dishes had disappeared and Brienne dried her hands in a towel and turned to look at Jaime, dreading the look she would find on his face. He stared quietly and she didn't want to think it was pity glinting in his eyes, but it probably was. How could he possibly help pitying her? She forced a chuckle. "Gods, you must think I'm an idiot.”

"No, not at all." He shrugged. "We can't choose who we love.”

 _Cersei_ , she thought, and her stomach flipped. She had stopped being disgusted long ago. Now she just felt envy.

"No, but at the very least I should be able to tell who loves me back. It shouldn't be that hard. Who could ever want _me_?” She motioned at herself, at her thick legs and her flat chest and her twice-broken nose and her horse teeth and her freckles.

"Don't say that," Jaime snapped. "You're a great woman, Brienne. Anyone who doesn't see that is an idiot. I know it's trite, but beauty—"

Brienne groaned, rolling her eyes. "Oh, don't give me that 'eye of the beholder' crap. And how would you know anyway? Look at yourself! You could have anyone you wanted." _You could have me, if you wanted._ She would rather die than say that out loud.

Jaime sighed and put the beer down on the countertop. He walked closer and put his hand gently on top of hers, which rested on the cold edge of the sink. Brienne's heart jolted into action, pounding against her chest. She hoped he couldn't feel her hand trembling under his touch.

"I know it sounds like a lie to you," he said, meeting her eyes, "but anyone would be lucky to have you.”

She shook her head, mulishly, and looked down. "You're just saying that because you're my friend and you want to make me feel better.”

He stepped even closer until she could see his shiny dress shoes in her line of vision, centimeters away from hers. He had never stood so close to her before, close enough to smell his cologne, close enough to feel the heat steaming off his body, close enough to see the gold streaks in his green eyes. “ _Anyone_ would be lucky to have you," he repeated, so softly she barely heard him over the frantic beating of her heart. By the time she realized what he'd said, his soft lips were pressing against hers and she felt like dying.

Jaime pulled away after a moment and stared back at her, a wild look in his eyes. _Say something, you idiot_ , she thought, but she couldn't come up with anything and he was too quiet and suddenly she was angry. "Why did you do that?" she barked, stepping away until her back was against the refrigerator. Her first instinct was to cross her arms over her chest and fold in on herself, make herself a smaller target, but she straightened up to her full height and faced him head-on, conjuring up the look her father gave his students when they got too rowdy.

Jaime flinched like he'd been struck. "Because I wanted to," he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Brienne scoffed. "I don't want your pity," she spat out. It was Hyle Hunt all over again. It was the boys at Storm's End and it was the bet. It was Hyle's voice in her ear saying she should be grateful. Her vision was blurring and she blinked fast, trying to clear the tears. She hadn't cried in front of any of them and she was certainly not going to cry in front of Jaime Lannister. _You were my friend_ , she wanted to shout.

"It's not pity, Brienne," he said, and in a moment, his lips were against hers again, hard and demanding. His hand, still cold from the beer, gripped the back of her neck and pulled her down to him, closing the two-inch height difference between them. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and pressed their bodies together, suddenly. She had to plant her hands on his chest to keep her balance and she felt his heartbeat, thudding as quickly as hers. When his tongue touched her lips, she hesitated only for a moment before opening her mouth and letting him in. His mouth tasted like beer and something else she imagined was completely Jaime.

She wanted to memorize all of it, the feeling of his right hand finding its way under her blouse to touch the skin of her waist and the sound he made when she touched her tongue to his. He left her mouth and kissed up her jaw until his lips were at her earlobe.

"I've wanted you for so long," Jaime whispered, and that was all she needed.

She turned her head to catch his mouth and she kissed him, harder than she'd ever kissed anyone in her life. She wanted him too, maybe since they day they'd met, but she knew she had never wanted him as much as she did right then.

Brienne tugged at the knot in his tie, face flaming, giving him a chance to push her away and apologize for kissing her, but he responded by dropping his hand inside her pants and groping her bottom and she moaned inside his mouth. She pulled his tie off and undid the buttons of his shirt. His chest was firm and warm and she leaned down to kiss his collarbone. Jaime shivered and pulled her blouse up and the look he gave her made her tremble.

Later, she would not remember how they made it into her bedroom. Somehow, she had lost her bra and her shoes and he had lost his pants. She climbed onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, brushing her damp hair away from her face and trying—half-heartedly—to catch her breath. The room was dark, save for the sickly orange light filtering through the window from the streetlamp outside, but she saw the outline of his hardness straining against his boxer briefs—navy blue with white dots—and her whole body buzzed, with fear or anticipation or excitement, she couldn't tell. She was thankful for the dim light, because she was sure that if he got a good look at her body, he'd snap out of whatever spell he was under and leave her there, panting and wanting.

Instead, he kneeled on the bed with a smile, leaned forward to open the buttons of her trousers and pulled them off with her underwear in one go. She fought the urge to press her thighs together and cover her breasts and gripped the sheets instead. She was certain her blush was bright enough to signal a plane, but it seemed like he'd startled the embarrassment out of her and all that was left was a thrum of lust deep in her chest, ever increasing.

Jaime took his time to rake his nails up and down her legs. "Gods, your legs are so long," he muttered with something like admiration. When he reached the juncture of her thighs, his fingers grazed the hair covering her outer lips, almost playfully. The smile was gone from his lips, replaced by a slight frown as he stared at her sex. _This is it_ , she thought, with a sinking feeling, _this is when he realizes he's made a mistake_. And she hated herself for thinking about _her_. Cersei. For surely he was thinking of all the ways she paled in comparison with his beautiful twin sister. Cersei with her luminous golden hair and her narrow waist and full, rounded breasts. Cersei with her green eyes matching his, in color if not in warmth. Cersei with her sharp tongue and her disdainful glares and her long decades of loving him.

Brienne tried to close her legs, but his eyes flashed to hers. As if he could hear the thoughts in her head, he smiled. "Don't get shy on me now," he said, and opened up her folds, stroking her burning flesh. She let out a shaky breath and arched into his touch, asking him for more. "Gods, you're so wet." He slid one finger inside her while his thumb rubbed circles against her nub and he kissed the soft flesh on the inside of her thigh. He slid another finger inside, and Brienne rocked against his hand, wanting to feel everything.

 _He must think I'm so shameful_. But of course, he wouldn't, not with the way he was staring at her right then. Hyle had never looked at her that way, like he wanted to consume her, not even in the frenzy of their lovemaking. It had been mediocre most of the time, rarely satisfying, but she had thought it was a sacrifice she could make if he truly loved her. _Stop. Don't think about Hyle now. Think about—_

"Jaime," she moaned, and he must have liked the sound of his name in her voice, because he lowered his head between her thighs and lapped at her nub while his fingers slid in and out of her entrance, sending the most overwhelming bolts of pleasure through her body. She tangled her fingers in his soft hair and pulled him closer to her body, and he went faster and harder and suddenly she was floating high and she could barely hear herself, calling his name over and over and over again.

When she came down from the clouds, he was planting kisses up her belly in the direction of her small breasts. He cupped one, rubbing the nipple between his fingers and he took the other bud in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it slowly. He looked up at her and smirked as he did it, making her blush anew, but she returned the smile.

"Kiss me," she whispered, and he was there in a flash, pushing his tongue against hers. She had tasted herself before, but not like this, not in someone else's mouth, and it was more arousing than she could have imagined. He had put his tongue and his fingers inside her, and if the way he was rubbing himself against her leg was any indication, he had _liked_ it. The idea made her head spin.

She wanted him inside her. _Now_.

"Jaime..." He nibbled at her neck and she hoped he wasn't thinking of leaving a hickey—imagine Brienne Tarth walking around the magazine with a purple-red bruise on her neck; it was absolutely ludicrous. She wanted to tell him what she needed, but the words stuck in her throat. Brienne had always been a woman of few words, and words like the ones she wanted to say were rarer still. Instead of speaking, she arched her hips against his and slid her hands under the waistband of his shorts to cup his cheeks.

"What is it?" he said, licking her collarbone. She could practically feel the smile on his face and wanted to hit him for teasing her so.

"Don't make me say it," she groaned.

He looked up and grinned. "I'm not making you say anything, but I can't know what you want if you don't say it.”

Brienne rolled her eyes. "I want _you_ , dumbass.”

He gave a melodramatic gasp. "Dumbass? Is that how you seduce people? By insulting them?" He began to lift himself off her. "Maybe I should go home.”

"No... please," she said, gripping his arm. Ignoring the blush that had taken up permanent residence on her face, she took a deep breath and shut her eyes and said the words. "Fuck me, Jaime.”

He planted a kiss on her cheek, shocking in its tenderness. "With pleasure," he said, and then he was pushing his shorts down and pressing against her entrance and sliding inside with a moan. It took her a moment, but soon enough she had found her rhythm, lifting her hips to meet his thrusts, again and again. He was slow and gentle at first, but she didn't want slow and gentle. She wanted frantic and explosive. She wanted to finish before she regretted it.

Brienne wrapped her legs around him, taking him in as deep as he would go, and he groaned in reply. "Gods," he whispered against her ear. "I won't last very long if you keep acting like this.”

"I don't care," she whimpered, kissing his neck. "I don't care.”

He raised himself on his elbows and drove into her again and again, hitting the furthest spots inside her, making her burn from the inside out. She held onto his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin, holding on for dear life, and she listened to his breath against her ear, his low, growling voice saying the most filthy things, promises she desperately wanted him to keep. She was close, so close, and his hand snaking down her stomach to flick at her nub drove her over the edge. She moaned her release, saw stars behind her eyelids, and he came soon after, grunting in her ear and saying her name.

"Brienne. Brienne."

It was the sweetest sound she'd ever heard.

Once spent, they disentangled from each other and laid side by side, staring at the ceiling. She was almost afraid to look at him, even in the darkness, and her heart was still racing, pounding to the remembered rhythm of his thrusts inside her. He leaned forward and pulled the bedspread up to cover them, then settled back against her pillows. Brienne chanced a sideways glance and found him staring back, a strange look in his shining green eyes. 

"Jaime, I—" She didn't quite know what she wanted to say, but she felt as if she should say something because surely that was what people did after having sex for the first time. They acknowledged the new development, whispered sweet nothings, made plans for later. Her only frame of reference was her first time with Hyle. After they were done, he had asked her out a second time, and later a third time, and so on until half a year had passed. She knew it had all been a lie, but it had meant something to her, knowing he wanted to see her, no matter the reason.

Jaime pressed a kiss to her freckled shoulder and slung his arm around her waist. It was warm and the weight was pleasant and she settled under it, pressing her body close to his. "Go to sleep, Brienne.” She nodded and shut her eyes, and in a moment, she was drifting away.

 

* * *

 

She fancied she heard a phone ringing somewhere far away across the Narrow Sea, but when she opened her eyes all she saw was Jaime sitting on the edge of the bed and buttoning up his shirt in the dark. She craned her neck to look at the clock on the nightstand and saw it was almost six. Jaime caught the movement and looked at her briefly over his shoulder before turning away to pick up his shoes.

Brienne’s heart dropped a bit. Even in the darkness she could see how tense his shoulders were, how stiffly his fingers worked to tie his shoelaces. “You’re leaving?” she whispered, because if she whispered she could barely hear the tremble in her voice.

“I have a brunch meeting in a couple of hours,” he said, his back to her. “Need to go home and get ready.”

 _Gods, he can barely look me in the eye_. She wanted to shake his shoulder and ask what the problem was, but she didn’t have to think to hard to imagine what was bothering him. _The problem is me. I am not her, but she is not here, so he got me_.

“Okay,” she said, settling back down on her pillow to watch him.

He ran his fingers through his messy hair and stood up. “You should close the door behind me,” he said. “I don’t like this neighborhood.”

Brienne would have laughed if her stomach wasn’t flopping around like some sick animal. She had heard of people resembling their dogs, but she supposed they could resemble their apartments too. Ugly, disheveled and unwanted apartments in Flea Bottom. Glamorous, expensive and coveted apartments in Visenya’s Hill. She sat up on the bed and tossed away the covers and he left the room, turning his eyes away from her naked body. It shouldn’t have stung so much, but it did. She found her robe and slipped it on and followed him outside. He had already opened the door and stepped over the threshold, ready to flee. _The spell is broken. The golden prince wakes up and goes home to his golden princess._

“I’ll call you,” he said, and she did laugh then, a bitter sound completely unlike her, something she had probably picked up from him. His eyes darted up to hers and he scowled, but she only scowled back. She’d spoken with Margaery enough, watched enough movies, had common sense enough to know he was only trying to placate her. She saw herself through his eyes for a moment, ugly and tall and too young and naive, worthy of pity and soft-spoken platitudes. Jaime needn’t have bothered. She’d survived Ron Connington and Owen Inchfield and Hyle Hunt and the rest of them. She’d survive him too.

“Right,” she said, putting her hand on the doorknob. “Good night, Jaime.”

He stared at her for a long moment, and she thought he might kiss her or cuss her out or do _something_ to prove the truth in his words, but he only nodded once, tersely. “Good night.” And he walked away, the soles of his shoes tapping away down the hallway.

Brienne shut the door, locked it after a moment’s defiant hesitation, and went back to bed. She did not sleep again. He did not call.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not 100% satisfied with this story, but it's just been sitting in my hard drive and I might as well just post it. I feel like there might be more to the story, but I don't know if I'll continue it. This is my first time writing fic for this fandom and this pairing, and my first time writing smut. But enough of my excuses. I hope this is a worthy addition to the fandom.
> 
> Edit 06/17/14: I am absolutely overwhelmed by the response this fic has had. I'm incredibly grateful and I'll almost certainly be continuing the story. Further installments will be most likely posted as separate works in a series.
> 
> Edit 07/01/14: I deleted a few lines from the last scene because they didn't quite fit where I'm going with this story. I never planned to continue it so I'm having to work around some roadblocks.


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